20.07.12 - Naked Hot Springs

I've got a blocked nose and keep waking up with a mouth like sandpaper so haven’t been sleeping too well. Got up early and went for a run around Nevada City, a very short run which I am blaming on the increased altitude and heat, although being unfit is probably more likely. No breakfast included

 here but there was a swanky coffee machine so I helped myself to a cup and drunk it in the small, top floor conservatory looking over the back garden. I am reading a biography of A.J.P. Taylor by Adam Sisman, which sounds like a chore and looks like a brick but is actually really interesting. He is currently working on decoding German ciphers during the war.

One annoying thing about travelling alone is having to pay the same rate for a room as two people, it makes accommodation seem very expensive.

I managed to hit the road by 9.30am, deciding to take the scenic route via the Sierra Hot Springs. Route 49 (aka The Golden Chain Highway) winds through pine forests over the hills and then runs along the Yuba river. I stopped at a little stop point to admire the wonderful looking river, water running over big rocks between deep, blue pools of clear, clear water. I scrambled down to the water, thinking of all of the awful things that could happen; dropping the keys down between a rock, being bitten by something horrible, falling and breaking something. Luckily none of these happens and instead I found a huge bramble bush covered in delicious blackberries. And the water was cool and fresh and very inviting but I pressed on.

Then I stopped in Downieville, a little stop on the road with a few shops, cafes, a bar and a tiny museum like the one in Nevada City. A great collection of random things, including a tea cup with a special lid on top for those with a moustache.

Driving an automatic has its benefits; not having to think about gears is at least one less thing to think about but...when driving along windy roads it is so annoying not to have the finesse of gears and the time lag from stepping on the gas to going anywhere must be a good couple of seconds. Very irritating. And driving someone else’s car is fraught with stress - who knows what that dial means, is that needle meant to be at 14?, why has that light come on, what is that noise? Things that in your own car you would just ignore but in a strange car make you think that the car is about to explode.

As I approached Sierraville I came out of the mountains and hit the plain, a beautiful large expanse of yellowing grasses, marked with dark cows and tin roofed barns with the low mountains in the background. And I saw a genuine cowboy, on a horse with a cowboy hat. So cool. The landscape is really ‘big sky’; it feels full of promise and opportunity. It feels so good to see the horizon stretched out for miles across.

I found the Sierra Hot Springs, a hippy honey pot full of naked people hanging out in the meditation pool. There is a main house where people can stay, they have yoga classes, new moon drum evenings, etc. Lots of ‘recycled air’ as Eddie from Ab Fab would say. The main attraction is the hot pool, which can get up to 105F. It is housed in a temple domed hut where silence is asked for, I shouldn’t think they demand anything of you here. The water bubbles up through sand on the bottom. It is weird plunging yourself into a

 boiling hot pool in boiling hot weather. But the best bit is getting into the freezing cold baths afterwards. It is so refreshing and revitalising, really wakes up the nerves. The regular pool outside was shaded by a huge canopy and looked out over the sierra and was full of naked people, some of whom looked way to cozy. I walked back to the other side of the house, about a 5-10 minute walk, to the Meditation Pool. This one was outside and only warm compared to the first, I didn’t really enjoy lounging in warm water in the heat and I looked like a real prude in my utilitarian Slazenger one piece. so I didn't stay long. One the way back I discovered several enamel baths sitting in the grass, randomly dotted around, water flowing into them from pipes presumably from the spring. I sat in one of them just because it was a bath outside but it was a bit slimy. I also walked past a woman, wrapped in a shawl, sitting on her own looking over the sierra,

just playing the flute. It was quite eerie and atmospheric, like the American Indian, reedy pipe music that they play in Westerns. An hour was enough for me, I don’t think that I could cope with the high 
levels of earnestness but it is an amazing location for a spa experience. You would have to come with a friend you could enjoy the hippy vibe and had a strong sense of irony.

I left feeling invigorated and ready to take on the world. Leaving the sierra I crept back up the mountains and over towards Lake Tahoe. The driving takes a lot longer than I had expected but I eventually made it there by about 4pm. I had booked ahead at Tahoe City Inn, recommended by the Lake Tahoe Shakespeare Festival website. The road sign advertised in room jacuzzis and huge video selection; the two things that would immediately put me off taking a room. At least they weren’t offering water beds but it was close. The motel was double stacked rooms in a horse shoe backing onto the lake. I had a ground floor room and eventually worked out how to set the blind so that the many people walking about couldn’t see through the window.

There was a huge bed, easily room for three people and then a huge, heart shaped jacuzzi, raised up on steps, big enough for a least four people which took up the rest of the bedroom. I wandered down the road, had a Mocha Expresso Fudge ice cream and then got ready to go again. I had booked a ticket for The Two Gentlemen of Verona, performed in an open air theatre on the shores of the lake. However, it was on the other side of the lake so back in the car, ugh, for another half an hour. The shores of the lake have attracted classic waterside, holiday things like cafes, shops, restaurants, casinos, a crazy golf course; all a bit tacky and faded as seems to be the norm. This is also a winter sports centre so it’s got a double whammy. The play was on the East shore in the Lake Tahoe National Park so the tackiness ends on the North shore and gives way to trees.
The seating is all on raked sand so if you’re not careful then you end up on a chair that’s tipping forward, the front legs having pushed into the sand more than the back ones. You can just see an inlet of the lake through the set; I thought that the audience would be facing the lake but as the sun sets it would be right in your eyes.

The play was very good, apart from the badly composed and badly sung songs that acted as links between the scenes. However,....I have decided that as much as I fully understand the genius of Shakespeare, it’s not for me. I know that this probably makes me a complete heathen and philistine but I’d rather see something that is not in what is almost a foreign language (to me anyway) so I left at half time, because I could. One of the joys of travelling solo, I can just do whatever pleases me. And going to bed seemed more pleasing than getting cold watching a play. Say what you will!
I tried out the jacuzzi, pressing the button produced a very loud noise like a jumbo jet preparing for take off and no bubbles so I just had a bath, but in a heart shaped bath, watching a film on my computer as there seem to be no regulations stopping me from trying to electrocute myself. I’m sure that Shakespeare wouldn’t have minded.

They have drive thru ATMs! A great idea.